


A Moment Under the Mistletoe

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Derek's Birthday, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Derek hasn't celebrated Christmas since he lost Laura and Stiles thinks this is unacceptable. So after one convoluted plan to throw him a party and one tender moment under the mistletoe, Stiles thinks he can change his mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TooFarForward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooFarForward/gifts).



> Happy birthday, darling!
> 
> This is going to be part of a collection entitled 'Christmas Memories', but I'll compile the list after all the fics are posted.  
> This one would be Christmas 2012.

Stiles glanced down at his phone, scrolling back through the messages he and Scott had been sending back and forth. He read them carefully:

 

SCOTT (10:34 am):

He’s getting suspicious. How’s it going?

 

STILES (10:35 am):

We need more time.

 

SCOTT (10:37 am):

How much longer?

 

STILES (10:38 am):

An hour?

 

SCOTT (10:39 am):

I’ll be lucky if I can keep him distracted for ten more minutes.

 

SCOTT (11:05 am):

Dude, we’re running out of time. Tell me you’re nearly done.

 

STILES (11:06 am):

Almost. 10 more minutes.

 

SCOTT (11:08 am):

Stiles, he’s getting bored. As in ready to kill me for procrastination level of boredom.

 

STILES (11:11 am):

5 more minutes. Cora’s just finishing off electrics and Erica’s trying to make the table look ‘perfect’. If you start heading back now, we should be ready just in time.

 

SCOTT (11:14 am):

You do realise this is never going to work right? I mean, Derek knows everything. There’s no way you could throw him a surprise party.

  

STILES (11:16 am):

You had better not tell him anything. Now stop being a pessimist and get your furry little werewolf butts back here.

 

His phone chimed with a new message. Stiles scrolled down to read it.

 

SCOTT (11:21 am):

Just pulled up. Hope you’re ready.

 

He drew in a deep breath and looked around the loft.

Their work had paid off, the place looked great.

“They’re here,” he told the pack.

The group finished off the final details and scurried across the loft to hide behind pillars, in the small kitchen, or behind the couch.

The heavy iron door thundered and rattled as it rolled back.

Derek’s heavy footsteps thumped against the polished floor as he stepped into the loft. They slowed to a stop as Derek wide eyes took in everything.

Strings of lights trickled down from the ceiling, in between the twinkling Christmas lights were heavy lightbulbs that glowed as radiantly as the sun. Small baubles of various colours and designs hung from thin strings between the strings of lights: glittering silver, gold, and white, some with hollow spiral designs, some with snowflakes and sparkles painted on them, and some covered with glitter. Each glowed and sparkled in the lights. Small crystal-like gems made of glass and plastic were hung from the spiralling rail of the staircase, chiming and twinkling as they swayed slightly.

His desk had been pushed back against the window and was covered in plates of food.

In the centre of the room stood a large pine tree – it was made of plastic, but it’s the thought that counts. The dark green limbs had been decorated with silver, gold and pale green baubles, strings of beads and lights, and little glass nutcracker figurines and small angels.

Upon closer inspection, Derek noticed that a few of the baubles had names on them: Derek, Cora, Boyd, Erica, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, John, Melissa and Peter. His heart skipped a beat as he found the rest of the names: Talia, Robert, Laura, and Claudia.

At the foot of the tree were stacks of presents, neatly wrapped in colourful paper and decorated with glittering ribbons and bows.

“I can hear your heartbeats,” Derek announced.

One by one they crept out of their hiding places: Stiles and Isaac from behind the couch, Peter, Lydia and Jackson from upstairs, Erica and Boyd from the kitchen and Cora from behind the dresser in the alcove that Derek called his bedroom.

Cora made her way over to her brother’s side and leant against him.

Derek wound his arm around her slender shoulders and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

“Which of you do I blame for this?” Derek muttered, staring them down.

Stiles smiled guiltily.

Derek met his gaze and nodded. His stern composure fractured slightly as he whispered, “Thank you.”

“Time to get the festivities underway,” Lydia announced. “Erica, mind giving me a hand with the drinks? We’ll start with presents.”

Once everyone was gathered around the tree, Isaac and Cora began to hand out the presents. They watched as everyone’s faces lit up with bright smiles and their eyes twinkled with joy.

Colourful paper was scattered around the loft.

The girls collected the stands of ribbon and wove them through their braids or tied them around their ponytails.

Once the presents were opened and set aside, they collected plates of food and refilled their drinks. The group dispersed and lingered in small groups as they talked quietly among themselves or gathered around a table to play games.

Lydia and Erica connected their iPods to the speakers and filled the loft with ambient music.

Erica was curled up against Boyd’s side, resting her head on his shoulder as they talked quietly with Isaac and Cora. Peter stumbled into their circle, stumbling slightly as he tipped back his glass and downed his eggnog. Cora rolled her eyes at him, slapping his shins as she hurried him away towards the couch.

Peter slumped down on the couch and talked to Jackson about sports while Lydia sat on the arm rest and chatted with Allison.

Allison’s eyes sparkled with joy. She giggled as Scott leant in close and whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

Stiles glanced across the loft, his eyes drifting to the slumped figure that sat on the small concrete step that lead into one of the other rooms. Stiles sighed and crossed the room. He sat down next to Derek and looked up at the man’s solemn expression.

“What’s up, Sour Wolf?” Stiles whispered.

“Nothing,” Derek dismissed.

“Then why are you sitting over here, on your own, instead of joining in and enjoying the party?” Stiles asked.

“I’m not one for parties,” Derek countered, sipping at his glass of water.

“Derek, I can tell you’re not lying, but I know there’s more than what you’re telling me,” Stiles pointed out.

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas for years, and there’s been a reason why,” Derek replied.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Because the people I want here, aren’t,” the man explained. “It doesn’t feel right to celebrate Christmas without my parents or Laura.”

“I understand how you feel,” Stiles said softly.

“Do you?” Derek countered, not believing the boy.

“I’ve had ten Christmases without my mum, and – because of drunkards and irresponsible drivers – I’ve had quite a few without my dad too,” Stiles replied.

Derek’s stern composure fractured, guilt and remorse seeping through the cracks as he dropped his voice and whispered, “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“We’re all missing someone, Derek,” Stiles pointed out. “Scott and Boyd don’t have their dads. Boyd’s little sister was hospitalised earlier this week so the rest of his family aren’t even in the state. Isaac doesn’t have his brother or his parents. Allison and Eric have lost their mothers. Jackson’s adoptive parents left him here while they went on a holiday cruise. Lydia’s parents are in the middle of a toxic divorce and neither have noticed she’s not at home. Peter doesn’t have his sister or his niece, and Cora is in the same boat as you, but they’re celebrating because they still have each other and they still have you. So, please, don’t make Cora miss out on having her brother too.”

Derek let out a heavy breath, his eyes focusing on his little sister as she began to bicker with Isaac about who ate the last cupcake. He watched as her dark eyes – her mother’s eye – glittered with joy despite the argument.

“Hey, tough guy,” Stiles whispered, drawing Derek’s attention back to him. “Look up.”

Derek frowned in confusion, trying to work out whether Stiles was pulling a prank or being serious. He glanced upwards and squinted at the thing that hung from the doorframe above them.

“It’s a piece of paper,” Derek muttered.

“It’s mistletoe,” Stiles corrected.

“It’s a piece of paper,” Derek repeated.

“Well, Scrooge, I couldn’t hang the actual thing in a confined space full of werewolves, a kanima, and a banshee, could I?” Stiles retorted, feeling defensive and a little agitated by Derek’s attitude.

Derek rolled his eyes and leant in close. He cupped Stiles’ cheeks and brought their lips together.

Derek was patient but insistent, waiting until Stiles relaxed into the warmth of his lips and returned the kiss.

Stiles let his breath fall from his lungs as his shoulders dropped. His eyes fluttered shut as he looped his arms around Derek’s neck. He laced his fingers through Derek’s soft raven-black hair.

Derek dropped his hands to Stiles’ waist and pulled him close, enveloping him in his warmth and feeling the warmth of the boy’s body melt into his own. He cupped the back of the boy’s head, lacing his fingers through Stiles’ unkempt chestnut locks while his other hand trailed down the boy’s side, caressing his surprisingly firm body before settling on the curve of his hip.

He ran his tongue across Stiles’ bottom lip and Stiles moaned blissfully as he obediently opened his mouth to welcome Derek’s tongue.

Stiles sighed in return, weaving his fingers into Derek’s hair, pulling soft tufts into his fist as the other hand running down the man’s shoulder, bicep and back. He wanted to feel every inch of skin.

His lungs burnt so much he wanted to cry but he desperately didn’t want to let go. He fell weak in Derek’s arms.

Derek drew back to draw breath, licking his lips and grinning at Stiles’ euphoric expression.

Stiles tilted his chin, chasing his Derek’s lips.

Derek smirked and whispered, “You only get one kiss.”

“You’re a tease,” Stiles growled as he sat back. He shuffled about, agitated. He rose to his feet.

Derek caught his wrist and met his glittering amber eyes as he span around. He rose to his feet, towering over the boy. He leant in close, his lips brushing against Stiles’ ear as he whispered one word in a low, sultry tone, “Rooftop.”

Derek let go of the boy’s hand and stepped away. He tossed his plastic cup in the rubbish bin before picking up another drink. He spoke quickly to his sister, giving her a quick hug before making his way out of the lost and upstairs to the rooftop.

Stiles watched him go, still stunned by what had just happened.

He shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts. As he turned to look about the room, he met Lydia’s gaze.

She smirked at him, her brow lifted questioningly. She glanced at the door and then looked back to Stiles.

Stiles frowned in confusion.

Lydia rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Go.”

Stiles’ curiosity won him over. He made his way out of the loft and upstairs. He pushed open the emergency exit door and stepped out onto the frosty rooftop.

Beacon Hills looked different at this time of the year: the buildings were covered in sheet of snow, the glass windows were icy, the lamp posts were decorated with tinsel and festive decorations, the lights gleamed like glittering jewels among the misty streets, and every breath created a thin cloud before their faces.

Stiles stepped out onto the rooftop and looked around for Derek.

The man was slouched against the brick wall, watching Stiles with glittering aventurine eyes. He straightened his back, standing upright and walking over the boy’s side. His hands rested on Stiles’ hips as he pulled the boy closer, feeling the warmth of the boy’s body melt into his own. One hand trailed up the boy’s side and cupped the back of the boy’s head, lacing his fingers through the boy’s hair. He pulled Stiles closer and brought their lips together again.

Stiles hummed blissfully as he weakened in Derek’s hold.

Derek walked the boy back up against the door. He pressed his hips against Stiles’, pushing him back against the door but not pinning him there in fear of trapping him and startling him.

Stiles slid his hand up under the hem of Derek’s shirt, feeling the taut muscles that twitched beneath the man’s golden flesh. He caressed the man’s soft skin, feeling the smooth curves and the warmth of his body. God, he was perfect.

Stiles tried desperately to make that moment last forever, but the burning pain in his lungs forced him to break away for air. Derek chased the boy’s soft pink lips, bringing them together again.

He kissed him lightly, drawing away quickly as he craned his neck and placed a trail of kisses across the boy’s cheek, jaw, chin, and neck. He stayed there, gently sucking and nipping at Stiles’ pale skin and moles; brushing his teeth against them just hard enough to make the boy moan but not hard enough to leave a mark. He pressed soft kisses against the patches of skin which were marred by the soft impressions of his teeth. His hands slid beneath Stiles’ hoodie and ran up the curve of his spine, urging the boy arch to his touch.

The kiss was tender and loving, but it quickly escalated into something more savagely passionate. It was hard, deep and messy. Stiles looped his arms around Derek’s neck, using his weight to pull the man closer. He opened his mouth and heeded to Derek’s dominating tongue.

Derek laced his fingers through Stiles’ hair, the buds of his fingers gently massaging his scalp.

Stiles hummed against Derek’s lips.

The hand on the boy’s hip pulled him closer, the ball of his thumb rubbing circles on the pale, exposed patch of Stiles’ skin.

Stiles drew back again, resting his forehead against Derek’s. He could feel Derek’s rugged breaths pant against his lips, the trails of warmth lingering on his lips.

Derek sighed, pressing their foreheads together. Stiles shuddered beneath his touch as Derek ran his hands up his sides, caressing him as if he was testing if this was reality.

Stiles blinked open his eyes, the amber depths consumed by the onyx depths of desire.

Derek looked back, his aventurine eyes glittering with love. He craned his neck and bought their mouths together again, brushing his lips across Stiles’ lightly – barely a kiss.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped.

He was interrupted as his phone chimed in his pocket. Stiles growled and pulled it out, muttering something under his breath as he opened the message from Scott.

He shoved it back into his pocket and looked up at Derek.

“We’re being summoned,” Stiles told him.

“Do we really have to go back inside?” Derek purred, leaning in closer and brushing his lips across Stiles’ in a brisk, tender kiss.

“God, I wish we didn’t have to,” Stiles whispered. “But we do; my dad’s here and he brought us presents. And by ‘us’ I mean you.”

“Me?” Derek asked, confused.

“Yeah, you,” Stiles repeated. “He gave me mine earlier. Now, let’s go.”

Stiles encouraged Derek to take a step back. He opened the door and stepped inside. He slid his hand into Derek’s and laced their fingers together.

Derek glanced down at their hands before looking back up at Stiles.

“I won’t hold it the whole time, just until we’re downstairs,” Stiles assured him before teasingly adding, “I don’t want to mess up your brooding tough guy image.”

Derek smiled and gently tugged at Stiles’ arm, pulling him close. He brought their lips together in a brief tender kiss.

Stiles chuckled and led the way downstairs. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on Derek’s hand and made his way back into the loft.

He smiled and rushed across the room to give his dad a hug.

“Hey kiddo,” John greeted, wrapping his arms around the boy’s slender shoulders.

Derek stepped into the loft. His footsteps slowed to a halt as he was taken aback by the stack of presents that sat before the gathered crowd.

“Did I forget to tell you?” Stiles asked rhetorically. “This is also your birthday party.”

One by one, the teens stepped forward to pick a present out of the pile and give it to Derek. As the pile grew smaller and smaller, Stiles began to look disheartened and slightly confused.

“I have an apology to make,” John announced. “I may have accidentally misplaced your present from Stiles. But I promise, as soon as I find it, I will bring it straight to you.”

“It’s alright,” Derek assured him. “I think I’ve had more than enough surprises from Stiles today.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. He bowed his head and tried to hide his rosy-pink blush.

“Sorry to love you and leave you, Derek, but I’ve got to be heading home,” Erica announced, giving her alpha a quick hug.

“She’s my ride,” Boyd explained as he walked over to Derek’s side but hesitated to hug the intimidating man.

Derek smiled sweetly at the teen and patted his shoulder.

“My mum’s should be getting off her shift soon. I’ve still got to cook dinner for us and I’ve got to drop Allison home, so I’ve got to head off too,” Scott said apologetically.

Derek saw him out to the door and said goodbye to Allison and Isaac at the same time.

“I know when a party’s dead and there’s a bottle of whiskey at home with my name on it,” Peter proclaimed, strutting out of the room. “Happy birthday, Derek. And merry Christmas too.”

Cora rolled her eyes at him and began to pick up the scattered pieces of wrapping paper, plastic cups and whatever scraps of food were left on plates. Lydia and Jackson helped her pack up the food in containers and store them away. They promised they’d be back tomorrow or the day after to help pack up the decorations so that Derek didn’t complain about them, but Derek didn’t seem to mind; he stood by the window, captivated by the twinkling lights that hung from the ceiling.

Lydia and Jackson said their farewells and headed off.

John and Stiles stayed a little while longer, helping clean up whatever was left before they too headed off to have dinner with Melissa and the boys.

Derek walked them out He waved to John as he got in his car and drove off down the street.

Stiles unlocked his Jeep but hesitated. He turned around and walked up to Derek’s side. He pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday, tough guy.”

Derek craned his neck and brought his lips to Stiles’ in a tender kiss. He cupped Stiles’ mole-speckled cheek and tilted his head, drawing the boy in closer and deepening the kiss.

Frail snowflakes fell over them, flecks settling in their hair or dusting their eyelashes.

Derek slowly pulled away, caressing Stiles’ cheek with the ball of his thumb across and bushing the scattered snowflakes aside. He rested his head against Stiles’, nuzzling his face into the boy’s warmth as the wispy clouds of their breaths mingled.

He wanted that moment to last forever.

“I should probably get going before my dad begins to worry,” Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded and reluctantly let Stiles step back.

Stiles chuckled as the gleaming white flakes clung to his whiskers. He pressed another kiss to Derek’s cheek and stepped back. He opened his Jeep’s door and climbed inside.

The engine sputtered slightly and roared to life.

Stiles pulled away from the curb and waved goodbye as he drove down the street.

Derek watched him go, feeling his heart sink into gut as the sky blue Jeep turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. He let out a soft sigh and made his way back upstairs. He stepped into the loft, feeling his heart swell at the sight of all the decorations that filled the room.

Cora had stacked all of Derek’s presents up in the corner of his ‘room’ before retiring to her own.

Derek decided to leave her be. He made his way over to the small alcove of his bedroom and began to put away his gifts. He moved about the space and halted as a glittering parcel caught his attention.

He turned, looking at the neatly wrapped present that sat on his bedside table.

He took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he picked it up.

There was a note taped to the top of it.

Derek pulled it free and unfolded the paper, his eyes rolling over the neatly written scrawls which read:

 

_Dear Derek,_

_This time of the year is a time for family, friends and love. Being so, I understand it is a difficult time for you – being both your birthday and Christmas. But just know, that you are part of our family. While you have Cora and Peter, you also have the rest of us. You are family to us and we will always be here for you._

_I tried hard to find a way to make you feel like your family were still here (the baubles were Lydia’s idea so I can’t take credit for that). I talked to Cora and she told me about the story your parents would read you every year, and when I was over here last I noticed that it was the one book that wasn’t in your library of books. I know it’s not the same as having the original one, but hopefully it’ll be enough to bring back the happy memories. I hope that reading it is enough for you to feel their presence and remember how much they loved you._

_So, here’s to family, to those who are with us and those who have passed. Here’s to those who love us regardless of glowing eyes, claws and lunar-related temper tantrums._

_Merry Christmas, Derek._

_And, more importantly, happy birthday._

_Stiles._

 

Derek felt hot tears well in his eyes as his vision blurred slightly.

He knew what it was.

He remembered all those times that his parents had read him the book. He could remember the feeling of his mother’s arms wrapped around him as they sat in bed with the book spread across their laps. He could remember the soft tones of his father’s husky voice as he read the words to Derek.

All the memories came flooding back to him, vivid and heart-warming, but he felt as if he needed to see it.

His hands trembled slightly as he tore open the silver wrapping paper and pulled out the heavy book. He looked down at it, running his hands over the leather-bound book as if to test whether it was real.

He blinked back his tears and read the title, _The Velveteen Rabbit_.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
